Crime Traveller: The Small Hours
by EllisHendricks
Summary: Crime Traveller, Slade/Holly romance, post-episode for 'The Broken Crystal': Slade can't sleep, and he knows exactly why...


**Crime Traveller: The Small Hours**

Jeff Slade couldn't sleep. Reaching over to the coffee table from the couch where he was lying, he picked up his watch and angled it into the light from the machine; it felt like he'd been lying there for hours, but in reality it was nothing like that. After dinner, wine, coffee and more conversation, Holly had said goodnight to him, but Slade couldn't help thinking that he might have missed something - a cue, a signal. It was only after she'd said goodnight and gone to her room that it dawned on him that maybe she was dropping a hint, and maybe she expected him to act on it?

After the past couple of days, anything seemed possible. The events they had both been subjected to were enough to induce post-traumatic stress disorder, and they had thrown Slade's emotions all over the place. It was as though his feelings had exploded out of a box, and however hard he tried, he couldn't stuff them back inside again.

Slade's mind drifted back to two nights ago, which now seemed like it had happened in a different lifetime. He hadn't really thought about it before, but his outing to the cinema with Holly was the first time they had spent together completely outside of the sphere of work. He had originally suggested they go for a drink after work, but as Holly had plans to go to see the film anyway, she had asked him if he wanted to join her. Slade hadn't hesitated, hadn't even asked what the film was. As it turned out, _Les Enfants du Paradis_ was not going to become an instant personal favourite, but the film itself was kind of irrelevant. Slade had realised how much he had enjoyed simply being with Holly, with no work agenda and without the complications of time travel; he had loved seeing her passionate reaction to the film, and decided he wanted to prolong the evening as long as possible. On the walk back to her apartment he had started to wonder where the evening might lead, and had been determined to wheedle out of her more information about that mysterious first date. Holly had teasingly told him that it was none of his business, but the thing was, Slade realised, that he wanted to _make_ it his business.

As it turned out, he didn't have to wait long for his answer. Of course, his interest had been immediately piqued by Holly's reaction to seeing Stephen Marlowe again; it was a reaction in her that he'd never seen before. The exchanged kisses had not helped the situation, and when _Les Enfants du Paradis_ was mentioned, the pieces all fell into place. Slade had immediately felt thrown, felt his focus fall away, and hadn't wanted to think too deeply about why this was. He later realised, however, that he'd never even considered that Holly would have had a life before him, let alone a romantic life. There was that ego again. These days her universe comprised work, the machine and him, something that Slade felt pretty good about. But it obviously wasn't always this way. And why would it have been? It was crazy to think that a woman like Holly wouldn't have had admirers.

Jealousy was among the ugliest of traits, and it was a painful thing for Slade to admit to, even to himself. But even more difficult were the consequences of admitting that jealousy – because it raised the question of why, and there was only one possible answer. He could kid himself all he liked, he could even tell himself that it was just selfishness over the machine and the secret he shared with Holly, but why then had it hurt so much?

When he left the restaurant the previous night, he didn't know who he hated more – Marlowe or himself. Interrupting their dinner, interrogating Marlowe – part of him was not proud of what he'd done, but he still felt he could justify it to himself. He was pursuing Stephen Marlowe in exactly the same way he would any other suspect, wasn't he? But then there was the way that Holly had looked at him, the disappointment, the tone he heard in her voice when she told him it wasn't about sides. He felt it again; real, physical pain, right there in his chest. It wasn't as though Slade had been in Holly's good books to start with; the last time he saw her, they had argued over his decision to have Marlowe tailed, and she had looked at him with real venom. When she accused him of making the case personal, she was of course right – Holly was usually right. But admitting to it was not something Slade was ready for, so preoccupied was he in throwing the book at her ex-boyfriend.

Those hours between leaving the restaurant and getting the anonymous call from Marlowe were not restful for Slade. His own dinner had been consumed mechanically, and he made attempts to distract himself first with the television and then with beer. But his mind just kept returning to Holly and Marlowe in that restaurant. By acting the way he had, Slade had given Marlowe the upper hand – he had driven Holly further towards him. Slade had passed by that particular restaurant on several occasions, but had never before been in there – hardly surprising given the prices, although that was clearly something that Marlowe didn't have to worry about. Why did that bother him so much? Probably the same reason everything else about Marlowe had bothered him; the fact that he was intelligent, successful, cultured and good-looking.

He had known that he only way to change Holly's mind would be to prove that his theory about Marlowe was correct, and in the end it was Marlowe that did it for him. But Slade had felt no sense of triumph when he realised the truth, just desperation to get to Holly before it was too late. He had been terrified that he would be too late, and that was unthinkable; he had made a silent promise that if they both got through the case in one piece, he would make things right. He had gone some way towards this with the crystal, but the crystal was the easy part and there was still unfinished business.

What should he do? If he told Holly how he felt about her, would she even believe him? Wasn't there was a danger she would think he just wanted unlimited access to the machine? But as he lay there in the darkness, spooling through the events at the Webb Biotech storage facility, he knew that he would sooner never see the machine again than settle for Holly's friendship. When he found her in the flash-freeze facility, he knew he couldn't let panic mode set in – if he was going to save her, he needed to keep it together. A surge of protectiveness came over him when Holly collapsed in his arms, and it continued during their stand-off with Marlowe; there was no way in the world he was going to let Marlowe harm Holly again. It was with a feeling of guilty satisfaction that he reflected on how good it felt to punch Stephen Marlowe in the face, not just once, but twice.

The crystal had provided Slade with the perfect opportunity, he felt, to correct the balance, to make things right for both of them. Unless his powers of detection were completely off-kilter, he knew that Holly had feelings for him – although his behaviour over the past couple of days had given her plenty of reasons to reconsider. When he'd given her the crystal, everything seemed right, and he could have just kissed her right then. So why didn't he? At the last second, it dawned on him that making a move on Holly on the same day her first love met his horrible end might be received at best as insensitive, and at worst tasteless.

The evening had given him plenty more opportunities to tell Holly how he felt, but he always backed out at the last instant. But he couldn't accept that the moment had been lost, and with a sudden rush of certitude, Slade swung his feet onto the floor. He pulled his still-buttoned shirt over his head. Somewhere between the couch and the hallway, he needed to figure out the best way to enter Holly's bedroom without earning a smack in the mouth.

As he exited the living room, something unexpected happened; he collided head on with Holly. They both tried to talk at once.

"Sorry, I was just -"

"It's okay, I was only -"

Slade looked at Holly and felt his breath catch in his chest. Scrubbed and dressed in a pair of striped, cotton pyjamas, she was even more beautiful than usual. Then, it dawned on him.

"Were..." he began, looking at her carefully. "Were you coming to see me?"

Holly smiled shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I couldn't sleep, so I...wait, were you coming to see me?"

"Yeah," Slade nodded, taking another breath. "I realised there was something I'd forgotten to say."

"Something that couldn't wait till morning?"

"Something I didn't want to keep until morning."

Having spent the past few hours fixating on the words that he wanted to say, faced with Holly in her hallway Slade suddenly felt all coherency abandon him.

"You look...different," he heard himself saying.

Holly laughed shyly.

"They're my pyjamas, Slade. Is that what you wanted to say to me?"

Fearful of what ridiculous utterance might come out of his mouth next, instead Slade took his chance. Moving one hand to Holly's waist and taking her face with his other, he kissed her with all of the passion and sincerity that he could convey. The first emotion he felt was relief, as though up to this point he's been holding his breath. But his weary body was brought to life by the immediacy and fervour with which Holly returned his kiss. His eyes closed, he felt Holly's hand slide up his chest and onto his shoulder, and her other hand slip around his back and under his shirt, caressing the skin above the waistband of his trunks. This was one of those times when actions really did speak louder than words; they had both had difficulty finding the words, but seemed to have few problems with the actions.

As Holly's fingers traced a path further up his back, Slade found the confidence to draw her closer to him, so that they were touching. It would be difficult now for Holly to miss, he realised, the evidence of how much he wanted her.

When they finally broke apart, Holly was breathless and smiling shyly, her hair mussed from where his fingers had been moving through it.

"So that's what you wanted to say?" she smiled.

Slade nodded, his heart pounding.

"More or less. Why were you coming to see me?"

"Pretty much the same reason," Holly giggled, winding her fingers through his. "I think my hint earlier on must have been way too subtle."

A broad smile spread across Slade's face; so his imagination hadn't been running away from him.

"So, what, you were coming to jump me?" he laughed, considering how out of character that would be for Holly.

"If that's what it took."

To Slade, that sounded very much like further permission and he leaned in to kiss Holly again, hardly able to believe that they were actually, finally doing this. He moved his hands underneath Holly's pyjama top, half bracing himself for a slap that never came. It hadn't escaped his notice that there was a height discrepancy, which he couldn't help thinking would be solved if they were horizontal – something he found he was becoming increasingly impatient for. Apparently, Holly was reading his mind.

"You know, hallways are usually just a way of getting from one room to another," she said. "So...bedroom or living room?"

Slade felt his pulse pick up pace again.

"I don't think I want that machine watching what I'm about to do with its owner," he grinned.

Laughing, Holly took his hand and steered him towards her bedroom door. Grinning, Slade kicked it closed behind them.

THE END


End file.
